Bare Knuckle: Vegas Top Guns, Book 5 (22 page)

They crossed the low patio and through the sliding glass door, into a wide kitchen. A table was lined with all manner of typical barbeque fare—typical except for a strong scent of exotic spices. Curry?

“What do you mean ‘Kisser’?”

“Ah, call signs. He hadn’t mentioned it? Sorry.”

“They’re a pain in the ass to get used to,” said another woman. She emerged from the living room. On her hip she bounced a sweet-faced baby in a white dress. For being so tidy, wearing an Indian-styled top and black slacks, the woman’s slightly disheveled hair seemed way out of place. She grabbed a potholder to slide a large covered sauté pan across the table. Multitasking mommy magic. “Some names stick harder than others. It’s taken a year to untangle Liam from his call sign. Dash was always…Dash.”

“Because he’s fast?” Trish asked.

The petite woman with dark, wide eyes and a heart-shaped face shed her potholder and offered her hand to Trish. “I’m Sunita Christiansen, by the way. His wife. Call me Sunny. This little one is Kavya. And no, it wasn’t because he was fast.”

“His Evo would say otherwise,” Leah said. “That car can move.”

“Trust me, I know.” Sunny grinned. “Do you know, he told me we just
had
to keep it after Kavya was born because four doors made it a family car.”

“Fat chance. This little sweetheart is gonna need a racing helmet.” Leah stuck her index finger in Kavya’s tiny fist and smiled at the girl. “And Dash stands for ‘dumb as shit’. After his first time in a centrifuge, he stumbled out like he was drunk. Couldn’t remember his name. Dumb as shit.”

Sunny stuck her tongue out. “That’s because he pulled more Gs than anyone in the history of history.”

The tall man in question emerged from the living room. After he stroked a hand over the baby’s incredibly thick black hair, he leaned down to kiss his petite wife’s head. Something dark lurked in his eyes, sparking to life when their gazes met. Trish felt compelled to look away, but she didn’t. There was a story between those two.

“Sunny, my love. Jumping to my defense. Only, be careful around Princess. You know she’s got claws.”

“Piss off. I save them for Mike.”

“Cruel, cruel woman,” he said, shaking his head. “Besides, I’ll be free of the flying monkeys at the end of the month, back to plain ol’ Liam.” He angled an adoring smile at Sunny. “You don’t mind.”

“That you’re less ‘dumb as shit’ than you used to be? Hell no. Now get out and take this one with you,” she said, handing their daughter to the tall pilot. “We have the privilege of gossiping with this pretty blonde. You do not.”

“Fine, fine.” Liam scooped up their girl, smiling, and strolled outside.

A stunning copper cuff glinted on Leah’s left wrist as she pointed at Sunny. “You gotta tame that boy before his ego gets completely out of hand. He was bragging up his newest class at the dojo, how some kid is going to win regionals or something. And how he’s got his own competition coming up? He’s been impossible to put up with.”

A private smile shaped Sunny’s lips as she went back to tending the food. Lifting the lid to the sauté pan released more of that fabulous curry scent. She looked at least part Indian, with flawless skin the color of deep amber. “Yup. He’s a badass,” she said, her grin deepening. “I’m most proud of his counseling, though.”

Leah gave Sunny an affectionate hug. “I can only imagine how tough it’s been. You’re both doing amazing.”

Sunny squeezed Leah’s hand then offered Trish a slightly watery smile. “Sorry. PTSD. And here we were trying not to talk in code around you.”

“Thank you. I hadn’t expected anything so…personal.”

“It’s part of his counseling,” Sunny said. “We face it. Talk through it. Keep it from remaining something shameful. But
you
. You’re the new girl—with Kisser no less. Color me pretty fucking impressed.”

Trish blinked at the woman’s colorful language. It didn’t fit, and neither did her not-quite-neat hairdo. But on her list of priorities, Trish wanted to know more details on Eric.

“Kisser’s his call sign?” she asked, trying not to sound too curious. Eric kept his military side so walled off that Trish felt the sting of being excluded.

“Yup.” Leah feigned taking a punch to the mouth. “He’s always been a wrestler and a boxer. Takes one in the kisser like a real champ. Ta-dah.”

“Huh.” Trish strolled to the open sliding glass door where the men had resumed their game of burn the steaks. More lighter fluid was involved. Only Liam stood apart, holding his daughter close but definitely urging the other men on. “I wouldn’t have thought…” She checked herself.

“What?” Sunny asked. “Thought what?”

Trish ducked her head. “Never mind.”

After sticking a spoon in an open canister of potato salad, Leah waggled a finger. In a singsong voice she said, “You were thinking about his mouth.”

Heat covered Trish’s cheekbones. She was embarrassed, sure, but she hadn’t expected this ease, not with women she’d met minutes ago—successful, educated women who’d probably freak if they knew the extent of what she did for a living.
Princess of Egypt
was one thing. Playing ring girl at unsanctioned off-Strip boxing matches was another. These ladies hadn’t needed five years to get halfway through a degree.

But they didn’t seem catty at all. Just friendly. No malice.

Their teasing felt…fun.

For the first time since she’d arrived, Trish took a deep breath and found it in her to relax.

“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “I was thinking about his mouth. Not so sure I like that you were, though.”

Leah shrugged. “Not my type. Used to be I only put up with him because he was close with Mike. He was such a chauvinistic, cocky son of a bitch. Well…before.”

Trish bit her tongue to keep from probing. As someone of importance in Eric’s squadron, a member of his inner circle, the pilot probably knew all sorts of things from his past. Who he’d been before his accident. What had happened.

She wanted to know. She wouldn’t ask. Because if Eric revealed how he’d come by his scars, he might want to know about her argument with Mama, her night with Mallory or whether she thought about him constantly.

Sunny moved around the table to stand beside Trish in the doorway, watching the men. Leah joined them. Trish noticed that each woman had a distinctly different posture. Leah—hip cocked, supremely confident in her own skin. Sunny—self-contained, almost ethereal. As for Trish, she felt like a tense, towering giraffe. She kept her shoulders back, her breasts out, her head tipped to a sultry angle. All artifice and she knew it.

“Eric’s
built
,” Sunny said. “I can definitely see the appeal.”

“That’s cuz Liam is a damn beanpole by comparison. He’d look like a mountain if he was filled out as well as Kisser.”

“But they’re going to get killed by that bonfire.” Sunny sighed. “Maybe the Evo will come in handy when we haul their stubborn asses to the hospital. Leah, can you drive a stick?”

“I can drive or fly anything.” Then she grinned at Trish. “So, yeah. Nice work. He’s a keeper. A good guy deep down. We like you too much to lie about shit that important.”

Trish frowned. She felt it pulling her lips in that unpleasant way. “What makes you say that? About liking me and not lying?”

Leah matched her frown, looking puzzled. “Um, why not? You’re sweet. Polite. You’re stacked and gorgeous, but hell if I’ll hold that against you. Even in show biz, I bet that can be as much a disadvantage as an advantage.”

“Says you, flygirl,” Sunny said. “I’d give a kidney for half your cup size.”

“And then what? Liam would glue himself to your hip? Chill, girl.”

Trish smiled at their easy camaraderie. It wasn’t like when she was with Mallory; they hid from the world together. No, these women were friends, secure in their lives and their relationships. Trish was shocked to her toes by how much she wanted that.

Her gaze was drawn to Eric. Again. She could barely keep her attention on anything else. A black tank top T-shirt revealed his hard, powerful arms and a glimpse of his tattoo. Casual cargo shorts. Athletic shoes. He was a warrior among warriors.

The tremor in her fingers wouldn’t quit. Maybe she owed him the truth on how crappy she’d been feeling lately. The argument with Mama. The offer from Hank Yardley—although that would open up a can of worms too gross to discuss. On the phone, she’d been upset to lose out on the Bellagio role, but she couldn’t bear mentioning that she’d been passed over for the singing cocktail waitress gig at the Wynn. Too embarrassing. Then there was the giant
Don Giovanni
project due soon, with no idea if her plans would measure up.

And she definitely owed him the truth of her night with Mallory.

Not right then.

She wanted to keep breathing in this ease—the peace of a simple October-afternoon barbeque.
Princess of Egypt
and another night strutting around the ring still awaited, but she dearly wanted simple, if only for a few hours.

After settling in with their food, whereupon the women marveled that the steaks were not only edible but delicious, more of the usual trash-talking started up. Liam was chatty where Sunny was calm and softly spoken—with that wicked side of foul language. To Trish’s surprise, Liam was the one to give their daughter a bottle, then burped her with complete efficiency.

Mike was chill, letting Leah fight the toughest verbal battles. Eric threw in his fair share of good-natured insults, smiling in a way that said he was genuinely amused. Guard down, he was content among his friends.

He reached between their padded metal patio chairs and took her hand. Gave it a squeeze. Gave her a private smile. He leaned close enough to nestle quiet words against her ear. “You’re doing great. Proud of you.”

Then he was gone, sitting upright to offer Leah a snarky setdown.

“Wait, so touch football, right?” Liam asked. “No way we can let Mike’s grandma hobby go to waste.”

“Grandma?” Mike snickered. “Whatever, dude. Teams. Me, Leah and Sunny. Liam, Eric and Trish.”

“How the hell is that fair?” Sunny asked. Trish grinned at the woman’s flash of temper.

“Sunny,” Liam said with a smile. “Personally, I can’t wait for the chance to take you down. But if you wanna argue that Princess can’t play as hard as a guy, be my guest.”

The two women exchanged matching mock glares, both of which broke into wide grins. “Game on, then,” Sunny said. “You got shoes Trish can wear?”

Trish put up her hands. “Don’t bother. I’d really rather watch.”

“No way, showgirl.” Eric stood and pulled her to her feet. He was half a move from hauling her into his arms, as he often had. The use of her nickname in front of his friends shot funny currents of electricity through her veins. She didn’t know if she hated it or loved it.

“Come on,” he whispered against her cheek. “I want to watch you get down and dirty.”

Fifteen minutes later, Trish had wedged her feet into a stretched-out pair of Leah’s old running shoes. Good enough. At least she was in jeans. Sunny was ready to risk her lovely slacks in order to tear the opposition apart. She was a dogged thing, squaring off against her husband, while Baby Kavya slept in a pop-out playpen with an elephant-printed sun umbrella.

“Does it matter that I don’t know the rules?” Trish asked as she lined up between Liam and Eric.

“Nope,” Eric said. “Grab the ball and run that way. Don’t let anyone take you down.”

She nodded. “Kinda my motto.”

The game was more like a free-for-all than any football Trish had ever been forced to watch. Scrambling. Lots more trash-talk. Some halfway decent passes between Leah and Mike. Sunny wrestled Trish to keep her from running forward, where Trish had the advantage of eight inches.

“Grab her, Liam,” she shouted, arms wrapped around Sunny’s tiny waist.

“On it.”

The man not only kept Sunny from protecting Mike’s run, but he completely took his wife down. They collapsed together on the grass, with Liam sprawled on top.

“Oh shit, dude,” Leah called. “No rough stuff in our goddamn backyard.”

Meanwhile, Mike hadn’t stopped. He ran toward Eric. Long legs versus a wrestler’s compact stance. Before Mike reached the makeshift end zone, Eric sprang. The two men tumbled in a mass of muscular limbs and hard grunts. The ball slipped free. A few fists may have flown. Everyone else was tied up, with Leah checking on Liam and Sunny.

“Do it, showgirl,” Eric yelled. Mike popped an elbow in his gut. “Run it in.”

Trish could count on two fingers the times she’d run for any reason beyond physical fitness and catching a bus. She was barreling along on a heady rush of pure fun. She snatched up the football and ran back the other way.

“Hey!” Leah called.

Her attempt to catch up with Trish’s long legs was too little too late. Trish crossed into the end zone and laughed. Distantly, in the back of her mind, she was happy the rough play hadn’t caught up with her. The prospect of having her wig ripped off was right down there amid the circles of hell.

Sunny cussed like a trucker, and Liam smothered her lips with his long fingers. “Are you gonna teach Kavya that language? For the sake of our child, behave like a lady.” He grinned. “I won’t take no for an answer.”